


tasting me like blood in your mouth

by laireshi



Category: Marvel 616, New Avengers (Comics)
Genre: Angst, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Vampires
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-30
Updated: 2014-12-30
Packaged: 2018-03-04 09:28:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,173
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3062666
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/laireshi/pseuds/laireshi
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>There's a trail of bloodless bodies, an Avenger missing, and Tony Stark knows he has to set it right.</p>
            </blockquote>





	tasting me like blood in your mouth

**Author's Note:**

  * For [deadeyeboy](https://archiveofourown.org/users/deadeyeboy/gifts).



> Thank you for betaing, [phenominable_snowman](http://archiveofourown.org/users/phenominable_snowman/pseuds/phenominable_snowman).

He was _hungry_.

There wasn't anything else; just the hunger. His vision was sharp and blurry at once. He got up. He wasn't sure why he'd been lying down. It wasn't important. He was hungry. He looked around, and nothing caught his attention; the world seemed to be covered in fog. He stumbled away, caught his balance, smelt the air.

He needed to feed.

There was—

He ran, quickly, and the fog receded when he noticed a lonely woman. She looked delicious.

He was at her side in a flash, and then he leant over her and bit her.

Her blood flowing through him was a sensation he couldn't describe. He knew one thing.

He needed more.

***

There was nothing else, just the blood. It didn't matter who it was—what mattered was blood, delicious, the very taste of life.

Nothing else was important.

It was easy, almost too easy; sometimes he wanted to play, chase after his prey, but the desire to drink was too strong. The quicker, quieter, the better; he could always find someone else.

Sun burnt. It was a painful lesson, so he learnt to hide. There were a lot of places. He didn't really care where, as long as he could stay in the shadows and wait for the good, cold night again.

To drink again.

(There was a building on the horizon, standing tall; it didn't seem any different from all the others, and yet sometimes he looked at it and stood frozen, the big “A” shining bright.

He thought that it would be a good hiding place, that it could be more constant—

But things like constancy didn't matter, and he never approached it.)

Blood was everything.

***

The screams didn't bother him, but sometimes they made more men show up. That didn't bother him either.

The more the better, he thought.

He caught one man with eyes blue as the sky. No reason to wake up hungry if he could keep a snack on hand, right? 

But there was something about these blue, blue eyes that made him uneasy.

Both _too_ tempting and . . . off-putting, almost, like he didn't want to hurt him.

He drained him dry. There was no place for thoughts like that. There was only the blood.

***

 _Blood_.

He stalked a new woman, but when he jumped behind her and turned her around, he froze.

He was used to seeing fear on people's faces. Horror. Dread. Not sudden _hope_ , something like _admiration_.

“Captain!” the woman said. “You're—”

Unimportant.

He leant down to bite her.

The blood tasted as well as ever, but there was something like doubt showing up in his head.

He needed more—

Didn't he?

***

He caught a new man. There was something different about him. He wasn't even sure if he could think of him as prey.

(Or of anyone, they were people, just like . . . No.)

“Steve,” the man said. “This isn't you.” He was dressed in red and held a rod. There were two _D_ s on his chest.

Who was Steve?

It didn't matter. The man was prey.

He wanted to drink. He jumped—

The man moved away. “Don't make me fight you, Steve. The Avengers—”

 _Avengers_.

Something was wrongwrongwrong—

He needed blood—

Not like—

He ran away.

***

“Steve,” Tony said quietly.

He wasn't sure if he expected Steve to recognize him. He wasn't sure what he would do if he didn't. He wasn't sure what he would do if he _did_.

He wasn't sure of anything, but this: he had to try. Somehow.

Steve turned back to him. His uniform was shredded, but what of his bare skin Tony could see was unmarked. He didn't seem hurt at all.

His eyes were bright red.

He was on Tony before Tony really noticed him moving, pushing him against the wall of the shabby warehouse they were in.

“Steve,” Tony tried to say again. “Just—Steve, you're Steve Rogers, just look at me . . .”

There was something strange and alien in Steve's eyes. He started leaning down over Tony, and fuck, what had Tony expected?

Better him than someone else.

“It's okay,” Tony said. “It's okay, Steve, Steve—”

The pain in his neck was sharp.

 _It's okay_ , he wanted to say again and couldn't. _It's okay it's okay it's okay_.

He was getting light-headed, and Steve wasn't stopping.

__

_It's okay_.

Tony wasn't sure what happened next. The world spun around, the cold touch at his neck disappearing.

__

There was only darkness.

***

__

Someone touched his arm.

He opened his eyes, and in the dim light he recognized Spider-Man.

__

“You're alive,” Spider-Man said.

So it seemed. Tony tried to push himself up, but he was weak, too weak, and his neck was a bright point of pain.

__

“He's alive!” Spider-Man called, pressing Tony down. “Lie still.”

Tony listened, because he remembered Steve looking at him with red eyes, biting him—

__

_How was he alive_?

He heard the team talking, but the words didn't really register. Steve had let him live. He must have—Daredevil said he'd never managed to save anyone, that he'd only ever found the bodies.

__

Tony shivered.

It was Steve. Tony had hoped it wasn't.

__

Spider-Woman showed up behind Spider-Man's arm and Tony felt momentarily calmer. “Don't do that,” he said, closing his eyes. He was so tired.

“You idiot.” Ms. Marvel's voice. “Why didn't you take the armour?”

Because he didn't want to have a way of hurting Steve, he didn't say.

“Hospital for you,” she said.

“No—”

She lifted him before he could even finish the sentence. She seemed too hot, burning like the sun, and he wanted to get away, but he couldn't really move.

“You lost a lot of blood,” she said.

 _Lost_.

One way to put it.

__

He drifted off again.

***

“Iron Man was late,” Tony joked to everyone who asked, and looked away when news about the vampires in New York showed up.

It was too late to keep it quiet, but the people of this city were accustomed to stranger things.

Tony stayed in for a few days and got transfusions. He didn't think he wanted to drink the blood from the bags instead. Clearly the old myths, warning about one bite, weren't that trustworthy. He felt human.

He woke up, and for a second he thought there were bats at his window.

 _Must have been an illusion_ , he thought and slept again.

Steve's red eyes haunted him in his dreams.

***

“It was Steve,” Tony said to the Avengers after he discharged himself. “What did I miss?”

“Daredevil hasn't found him again,” Carol said. “But he hasn't found any new bodies, either.”

Tony closed his eyes briefly. What did it mean? Has Steve stopped killing?

Did someone—

No.

“Any alive . . . victims?”

“Two guys,” Carol said, and stopped a bit abruptly, as if there was something else she wanted to add.

Tony looked at her. She looked back.

It was Logan who pushed one of the folders toward Tony.

Two low quality pictures were inside, but he saw what Carol didn't want to say.

Blue eyes, black hair, both of them.

He moved the folder away. “So what are we going to do about it?” he asked.

“Not what you're planning now,” Carol said.

He smiled at her. “I'm not planning anything,” he lied, and he knew she knew him too well for that.

“You—you can't think it's him,” she said very quietly.

“He didn't kill me,” Tony said.

Whatever that meant.

***

He sneaked out of the Tower the next night. Carol had to know he'd try it, but she couldn't keep her eye on him forever.

The walk to Hell's Kitchen was uneventful. He had on a light jacket, but he was still a bit cold in the cool air.

Steve wouldn't warm him up now.

Tony stood on the street next to the warehouse he'd last seen Steve in and looked around. It seemed empty, and Daredevil had to be checking it regularly.

Tony took out a small knife and sliced the back of his hand. It almost didn't hurt, the blade was sharp. He'd barely hidden it again when Steve showed up in front of him. He'd always moved fast, but this—

This was something else.

“ _Tony_ ,” Steve said.

Tony exhaled quietly. “Steve.”

Steve's eyes were fixed on his hand. He reached out, very slowly this time, and grabbed Tony's wrist.

Tony didn't move.

“Why,” Steve whispered.

“I wanted to talk,” Tony said. Steve started to raise Tony's hand up, almost unwillingly.

“Bad idea,” he said.

“Is it?” Tony challenged.

Steve's lips touched his hand.

Tony wished Steve was in control of himself. That he'd touch him like this because he wanted Tony, not Tony's blood.

It didn't matter now.

Steve licked along the shallow cut and Tony shivered.

“Come home,” he said.

Steve's grip on his wrist hardened.

“I miss—we can help,” Tony corrected himself. “Just. Come home.”

His wrist hurt.

Steve's lips were very cold.

“Steve . . .” Tony said.

Steve was gone.

***

Carol looked at his bandaged hand and didn't say a word about it. “I called Stephen.”

Tony ran his hand over the bandage briefly. “What did he say?”

“Nothing you want to hear,” Carol said quietly. “Look, Tony—”

“He didn't hurt me,” he interrupted her.

“Your definition of _hurt_ is debatable.”

Tony spun around on his chair. “He could've killed me.”

“I love him too,” Carol said. “But . . .”

It wasn't Steve, so they couldn't hold him accountable.

It wasn't Steve, so they had to stop him.

But Tony's job was fixing the impossible.

And Steve hadn't hurt him.

***

“Daredevil found another body,” Peter said sadly. 

“Is he sure . . . Of course he is,” Tony sighed. It was the first news in a week, and of course no news had been good news.

Tony had been working on making his armour quicker, on finding ways to track Steve, and failing at both.

And Steve had killed again.

Tony should've helped him, should've found a way.

He should be a leader now, he should reassure everyone, he should have a plan, he should—

He left.

***

He was elbows deep in the armour when the alarm sounded in his workshop. He untangled himself as fast as he could, and then he ran to look at the screens.

The back door to the Tower.

Open, and empty.

Tony swore.

He didn't call the Avengers, he just ran.

It was just one flight of stairs and a few turns down the corridor, but it took ages. But then it didn't matter, because _Steve was there_.

He stood outside, even though he must've used his code to open the door.

“Tony,” he said.

His clothes looked even worse than Tony remembered, but he still seemed unharmed. He was very pale in the light falling on his face from the lit door.

Tony stopped a step away. “Steve.”

Steve reached out a hand, and he splayed it flat in the air as if there was a layer of glass between them.

Tony exhaled. “What other legends are true?” he asked.

“Help me,” Steve asked, very quietly, and Tony had to stop himself from touching him. He wanted to do nothing else, but there were other people in the Tower.

“I keep thinking about you,” Steve said quietly. “I—I don't remember much. There's the blood. I didn't want to—but I was hurt, and he was there, and . . . his blood . . .”

He didn't look hurt, and Tony wanted to believe him so much.

“Wood,” Steve said, like he read the question in Tony's eyes. “Just a splinter.”

Tony nodded slowly.

It was _Steve_.

“Come in.”

***

Steve was crying.

The tears falling down his face were red.

Tony had brought him new clothes. The room he'd led him to was on an unused floor of the Tower.

As if it could change anything if Tony had made the wrong decision, letting him in.

He hesitated for a moment, no longer than a second, before he rolled up his sleeve.

“Drink,” he said.

Steve looked at him, and in that moment he looked exactly like he had the first time Tony had gone to find him.

Like a predator.

“Drink,” Tony repeated. Better him than anyone else, even if he didn't trust Steve not to hurt him.

But he did. And if that made him crazy, well, so be it.

He almost wasn't surprised this time when Steve moved faster than Tony could see. His touch was gentle. Nothing of the terrible strength he'd presented earlier. 

“You shouldn't,” he said slowly, like it cost him a lost.

“ _Drink_ ,” Tony repeated, and Steve did.

***

“You look pale,” Carol said in the morning.

Tony looked around the kitchen. Logan aside, every Avenger was there.

“Steve Rogers is in a room three floors below us.”

“Didn't know we had cells there,” Luke said.

“We don't,” Tony answered coolly. “He's . . .” He stopped himself, because he didn't know _how_ Steve was, not really. “He's our friend,” he said instead. “He's an Avenger. We have to help him.”

“I know he's not responsible for what he's done,” Jessica said. “But . . .”

“He's getting better,” Tony said. Lied, maybe. Maybe not. “Look, I'm not stupid. He's dangerous. I know he is. But he didn't hurt me. An alarm will sound if he leaves his room.”

Not that he would, in the daytime.

“Do you really think we can help?” Carol asked quietly.

Tony nodded.

***

Tony went to Steve's room, a blood bag in his hand. He didn't mind Steve drinking from him, but he knew he wasn't able to offer as often as he'd have to.

Steve stood in front of the window, looking at the city. He wasn't reflected in the glass.

“Hi,” Tony said.

“I killed ten people.” Steve didn't turn around.

“It wasn't you,” Tony said. “We have enough experience with mind control to—”

“It is me!” Steve yelled. “I look at you and all I see is your blood!”

“You didn't kill me,” Tony noticed quietly.

“So you're going to tempt fate,” Steve said. “Like you always do.”

“You said you didn't remember.”

“It comes and goes.” Steve finally pushed himself away from the window, sat on the edge of the bed and leant his arms on his knees. “It's better after I drink. Better when you're near.”

 _Why_ , Tony didn't ask.

“Or maybe it gets better with time,” he said. “You don't have enough data, Steve. You came here on your own. That means something.”

__

“I only want to drink,” Steve said, his eyes dark.

Tony laughed, unamused. “I know something about that.” He threw the blood bag to Steve. “Try this.”

Steve didn't ask questions. He tore it open, held it to his mouth.

He started choking seconds later.

Tony was at his side before he could think, running a hand down his back. “Steve? Steve, are you okay?”

Blood spilt on the floor, and Tony was standing in it, but he didn't care; Steve was shaking all over. Tony gave him his wrist, and he knew he was weakened already, but Steve had controlled himself last night, and—

There was nothing gentle about him now. Tony's vision swam.

***

“I'm sorry,” Steve was saying. “I'm sorry, god, Tony—”

“'m fine,” Tony muttered. 

“You're not!”

If that wasn't one hundred percent Steve Rogers . . .

Tony was lying on something soft, and he didn't try to sit up, but he opened his eyes to see Steve leaning over him, a frantic expression on his face. “I'm fine,” Tony repeated. 

Steve shook his head. “Call someone,” he said. “You're not safe with me.”

“I'm always safe with you,” Tony said without thinking.

“I can kill you.”

“You were always able to,” Tony said. “But you won't.”

He was tired. He didn't want to argue with Steve now. He wanted to sleep.

“ _Call someone_ ,” Steve repeated.

“If you promise not to leave,” Tony said.

“Tony.”

“Guess I'm staying then.” And it was a good thing. The bed was comfortable.

“I promise, okay, but you need help, and I don't trust myself with other people, _Tony_.” Steve sounded desperate now.

Tony fished out his mobile and managed to select Carol's number before the phone slid out of his fingers.

***

He woke up in hospital.

“All that time trying to help him,” Carol said. “Did it ever occur to you what it would do to him if he really hurt you?”

“He wouldn't,” Tony said. “And why am I here?”

“Because if you regularly act like a blood donor, you need transfusions,” Carol snapped.

He was all right, he'd just gotten dizzy, Tony thought. “How's Steve?”

“Fine,” she said. “Guilty. Blood bags don't work, but he can go just as well on my blood. Or Peter's. Or—god, Tony, I've never seen Steve that scared.”

“You all thought he was a monster,” Tony said.

“I'm sorry,” Carol said quietly. “He's—I'm still stronger than him. That's why it's safe for me. But you shouldn't risk it.”

“I'm not risking anything,” Tony said stubbornly.

“Maybe not,” she agreed suddenly. “But don't do that to him.”

He was only trying to help, but it always backfired.

***

Tony raised his head from the armour when he heard a tentative knock on the workshop door.

Steve stood outside.

“I thought you wouldn't want to see me,” Tony said when he opened the door.

“I always want to see you,” Steve said. His eyes were a bit lower than Tony's eyes—his neck. Of course. “I'm sorry,” Steve said. He looked up, met Tony's eyes this time. “I'm sorry, and— _thank you_.”

Tony raised his eyebrows. “What for?”

“I hurt you,” Steve said. “And you helped me.” He was still too pale, his eyes were still red. But he didn't look like a monster now. He looked like _Steve_. “You believed in me.”

Tony looked down. “Isn't it obvious?”

Steve sighed. “I don't—I didn't remember almost anything, but I came here, because I trusted you to help.”

“Steve, I'd do anything for you.” He might have never been more honest.

“I know,” Steve said. “I know that now.” He looked over Tony's arm. “I can't . . . Your well-being—anyone's—yours . . . I can't live by hurting people, Tony.”

Tony wouldn't let him finish that line of thought.

He touched his cheek, forced Steve to look back at him. “You didn't hurt anyone here,” he said. “No, don't—Steve, you're worth more to me than some blood.” _You're worth everything_. “Stay with me.” He brought his hand lower, gripped Steve's arm. “You saved my life so many times. Let me now.”

“You saved me already,” Steve said. “You gave me home. Again and again.”

“Then why are we still having this conversation,” Tony said. “ _Stay_.”

“I _can't_ hurt you,” Steve said.

“I can always find you,” Tony answered. “Make it easy for me and don't leave.”

Steve laughed almost unwillingly. He caught Tony's wrist, and then froze.

Tony looked at where Steve's fingers curled next to his pulse point.

“I don't mind,” he said.

“I do,” Steve answered.

But he didn't let go.


End file.
